


learning to let go

by quartknee44



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Did I mention angst, F/F, Healing, Korvira Week, confused gays galore, i simply love their dynamic, the pining is unmatched, these bitches gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartknee44/pseuds/quartknee44
Summary: korra and kuvira grow close, and korra starts to figure out exactly what her turbulent emotions mean. but with the crazy world they live in, will her realization come too late?
Relationships: Korra/Kuvira (Avatar)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 79





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> for my bestie, and the saturn gang

Korra’s staring emptily at the ground, playing mindlessly with a small piece of gold. Passerby shoot her looks, but none have the nerve to actually approach her. She can’t blame them. The avatar, sitting alone on a bench in her own memorial park, doesn’t look like she’s in a talkative mood.

The park itself is a thing of beauty. As summer has started to transition into fall, the trees are turning colors. There are vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows as far as the eye can see, as well as a thick blanket of fallen leaves covering the grass. Fall is her favorite time of year, and in Republic City, it’s easy to see why.

She sighs and leans back in her seat, putting her feet up so she can wrap her arms around her knees. If she sits like that too long her hips start to cramp up, as Asami always reminds her, but right now she can’t bring herself to care. Instead she focuses on the chunk of gold, now hovering in midair as she tries to bend it back into its original shape. But her corrections are too much, her movements too abrupt, and she becomes so frustrated she plucks the piece out of the air. She draws her arm back, ready to hurl it into the nearby creek.

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

Sighing, Korra doesn’t turn around. “How’d you find me?”

She watches a pair of boots walk in front of her before she looks up into the face of their owner.

“It wasn’t a stretch,” Kuvira says, “this is her favorite place.” Her expression is unreadable, seemingly devoid of pity, which Korra’s thankful for. Too many friends had come up to her, voices overflowing with sympathy, I’m sorries and Our condolences in abundance. She was tired of it all.

“Mind if I sit?” 

Korra merely grunts, but she watches the older woman out of the corner of her eye. Kuvira gazes off, far beyond the tree-covered hill, past the greyish water of the harbor, out into the distant sky, streaked with orange from the rays of the setting sun. She sits quietly. The silence is long, but comfortable. There’s an occasional rustle as a squirrel passes near them, and birds fly noisily overhead, but still no words are exchanged between the two.

It’s eventually Korra who breaks the silence.

“Does it get better?”

Kuvira thinks for a moment before answering. “The pain fades,” she says, “but the memories will always be there. The good and the bad.”

A lump grows in Korra’s throat, which she hastily clears with a cough.

“Got it.” She doesn’t trust herself to say much more than that.

Kuvira’s eyes half turn to Korra; she can feel her gaze, but she refuses to make eye contact.

“It’s hard to lose someone you love,” Kuvira continues. Korra chances a glance over. She knows the metalbender’s thinking about Baatar Jr, but her face doesn’t show it. She looks completely impassive.

“The moment I fired that spirit cannon I lost him for good,” she said, breaking her renewed eye contact with the horizon and looking down at her hands. “There was no forgiving what I did. But I regret it every day of my life.”

For the first time in their conversation, Kuvira’s expression softens, as she mentions her past actions. It’s for the briefest instant, but it’s so deep that Korra can feel the remorse, the guilt, weighing on her conscience. She can’t imagine how it must feel to live with that sort of burden constantly. 

The moment’s gone as soon as it comes, but she knows she’ll never forget it.

“But that’s different.” Kuvira’s words interrupt her thoughts. “You have to know this wasn’t your fault.”

A flood of emotions rips through the avatar’s chest.

“But if it’s not my fault, then why couldn’t I heal her?” she bursts out angrily. “Why couldn’t I whip out some special avatar power that could’ve saved her? Why-"

“Korra,” Kuvira interjects, placing her hand on the other woman’s shoulder to stop the desperate flow of words. “Katara couldn’t even heal her. There is no secret avatar power that could’ve saved her. This wasn’t your fault.”

Tears fill Korra’s eyes. “But,” she closes her eyes, trying to fight them, “she can’t be gone, Kuvira, she just can’t-"

She can’t fight any longer. Her breath comes out in short gasps. The weight of the other woman’s arm wraps around her. She obliges, leaning her head on Kuvira’s muscular shoulder, and cries until her head aches. People look away, knowing they’re witness to a moment that should be private, but Korra can’t stop. These are tears that need to be shed, that deserve to be shed.

When her sniffles have subsided somewhat, she can hear Kuvira speak.

“Not even love can stop death.”

Korra clenches her jaw at the sentiment. It’s the truest thing she has heard yet today, but she hates to even admit it. When her tears have stopped, she hiccups and moves to get up. Kuvira lets her, dropping the arm from around her shoulders. 

It takes Korra a long time before she is ready to speak again.

“Sorry,” she mutters, sniffling to clear the remnants of her tears.

Kuvira looks at her. “I know this is hard. But you have to promise me you won’t stop living. Not just existing,” she adds. “She would want you to live, Korra.”  
An empty feeling clutches at Korra's heart.

Everything had started off so great, with trips to the spirit world, working with Zhu Li to get the displaced people back in their homes, stopping turf wars, cleaning up the mess of the Earth Empire. Every hardship, battle, interference they faced made them stronger. Nothing could stop them.

Until Asami was diagnosed with cancer.

Immediately, they went to the South Pole, trying everything to stop it. Katara worked for hours in the healing hut, tried a million different treatments, but nothing worked. Eventually, after much convincing on Asami’s part, they decided to go back to Republic City. Every day Asami grew a little weaker, while Korra refused to give up. She couldn’t give up. But in the end, Kuvira was right.

Her love wasn’t strong enough.

Korra was forced to watch helplessly as she slowly faded from this world, unable to save her.

Asami died in Korra’s arms that morning.

A lone tear traces down her face, and she watches it drip onto the ground.

“Can I see that?”

Korra looks up, confused, and Kuvira gestures to the gold. “Let me take a shot.”

“Oh.” Her voice is still hoarse after all the crying. She hands the precious metal over, and watches Kuvira examine it from every angle, furrowing her brow in concentration. Then, with graceful movements of her fingers, the piece of gold stretches and morphs into an easily recognizable shape.

“Here.”

It’s a small gesture, but it means the world to Korra.

She reaches over and gently picks Asami's hairpin, which she had unthinkingly crushed earlier, out of the air. “Thanks,” she says, finally making eye contact and shooting Kuvira a small smile to show the sincerity behind her words.

She can’t be certain, but she thinks she saw the corner of the older woman’s mouth quirk upward in a similar smile. “Anytime.”

Turning to face forward once more, both women sit in a companionable silence. While that makes it quite easy for Korra to hear her own thoughts, she can face them a little more easily now.

Asami was gone, and there was no bringing her back. But in her memory, Korra would live her life.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's see how long I can keep up this pace
> 
> ily savannah <3

Four months later

After Asami’s death, Korra found herself slipping back into a bad place, where she hadn’t been since she fought with Zaheer all those years ago. The things she used to enjoy became taxing and every inconvenience was a major frustration. She didn’t see how she could ever live life like she used to. It was just so hard being alone, when she thought she’d never have to again. It can feel impossible to keep going in the dark when it seems your light is gone.

It would be worse, however, if it weren’t for Kuvira.

Just as her last flicker of hope started to fade away, the metalbender was there to light it up again. And as the months passed, she kept Korra grounded and got her to start living life with a purpose again. In her hardest times, her darkest hours, Kuvira knew exactly how to pull her back from the brink.

Korra is feeling Asami’s loss particularly hard today. She’s been in Zaofu all week, for a trade agreement signing between the state and one of its neighbors. Being so busy, she’s had little time to remember. With her first day free, however, the memories come back in full force. 

She’s sitting in the gym in her guesthouse, wearing an old, stretched-out tank top and sweatpants, staring at her hands. The idea was to work out until her muscles ached, to keep herself distracted. But she can’t focus on the punching bag in front of her; it’s too loud inside her head.

With a sigh, she turns and lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling. She hates working out alone, which is why she always does it with Kuvira, or-

Korra clenches her fist and squeezes her eyes shut, unwilling to finish the thought. She hasn’t said her name out loud in months. It’s still too fresh, too painful to even think about.

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door, saving her from her thoughts. She stands up, and walks to the entrance way to open it. 

Kuvira is standing there, holding takeout containers from the nearby noodle shop. “Hey.”

Her deep, raspy voice manages to pierce through the veil of chaos in Korra’s mind. “Hey,” she replies. She hears how tired she sounds as she says it. The telltale symptoms of a migraine start to set in, and she pinches the bridge of her nose to relieve some of the pressure. Kuvira can tell she’s having a rough day, she’s sure, but doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she holds up the containers. “I brought lunch, if you’re interested?”

Korra shoots her a half smile, stepping aside so she can walk in. “Sure. Thanks,” she adds.

Kuvira just nods and heads for the kitchen. Korra chuckles. “You have such a way with words.”

The older woman snorts derisively. “And here I thought you were gonna be quiet today.”

“Sorry, does that disappoint you?” Korra asks sarcastically.

There's a pause.

“No,” Kuvira says. Her tone is more genuine as she inclines her head thoughtfully, “I’m proud of you.” 

Korra’s heart leaps inexplicably as she holds her friend’s gaze. “Thanks,” she says quietly. 

To her surprise, Kuvira actually smiles before she returns her attention to dishing out the noodles. Korra is handed a bowl and some chopsticks, and the two sit across from each other at the kitchen counter. Silence settles comfortably between them, a typical occurrence. Their friendship was such that they typically didn’t feel the need to break the quiet with trivial or empty remarks, preferring the purity of each other’s company instead. But today, Korra wishes they weren’t so prone to doing that.

As hard as she tries to focus on her food, the lone chopstick swirling through her favorite Southern Water Tribe delicacy, her mind keeps bouncing back where it shouldn’t go. She’s seeing things she doesn’t want to see, remembering what she doesn’t want to remember. A smile, a laugh, a sparkle in the depths of a beautifully green eye.

She needs something, anything, to occupy her mind. 

“Wanna spar?”

Korra’s eyes shoot up to meet Kuvira’s, who has an eyebrow raised in a challenge, but also not a small hint of concern in her gaze.

Korra doesn’t even hesitate for a moment before she grins in acceptance, grateful for her friend's seemingly uncanny ability to read her mind. “Yeah, actually, since you’re so eager to get your butt kicked.” 

“Sure,” Kuvira says, rolling her eyes doubtfully.  
\---  
There’s a barren expanse of dry dirt behind the guest house, used only for bending. These sorts of things, which seem out of place for such an outwardly noble, developed society such as Zaofu, are actually quite common around the city. 

The avatar and the metal bender face off, a respectable distance between them. Korra’s still wearing her gym clothes, and Kuvira is dressed similarly, but in a long sleeve shirt instead. She’d brought sweats with her, as if she had known how this lunch trip would go. It's just another small indicator of how well Kuvira really knows her.

Korra feels a slight bunch of nerves in her stomach, but she quickly pushes them aside. It was just a spar, after all. Her eyes flutter shut as she takes a deep breath to reinforce the thought.

"Don't get sleepy on me yet, avatar. We've got some sparring to do."

Korra jumps as Kuvira's voice intrudes into her internal peace. Her stomach knots again, which is weird because she's not nervous about the fight at all.

She doesn't consider that her nerves might be for a different reason entirely.

Settling into a slight crouch, she feels her muscles tense and relax, flexing to ready herself. She watches Kuvira do something similar, but every movement is confident, self-assured. She was like this before every fight, Korra knew. It was a quality the avatar was extraordinarily jealous of. Kuvira's cockiness was the stuff of legend, but it was not unfounded. She had always been an incredibly talented bender, as well as a brilliant tactician. She knew her own abilities were superior to most opponents, and that afforded her some leniency.

While Korra was often brash and headstrong, Kuvira was usually the opposite: calm, controlled, and collected when she had the upper hand. When she was at her weakest, when Korra held her in the Spirit World, was a rare and intimate moment. After Asami's death, Korra was at a similar place. Having the privilege of seeing each other at their lowest points was one of the main factors that allowed the two women to grow so close.

"You plan on getting started anytime soon?"

Though outwardly bored, there's a note of challenge in Kuvira's voice that Korra has learned to identify as the months passed.

"What, got a hot date or something?" 

Kuvira chooses to ignore her. “First hit wins.”

“I remember,” Korra says, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it in quick.”

Rather than replying to Korra's taunt, the metalbender acts, kicking her foot up and carving a chunk of earth from the ground, and punches, sending it flying at the avatar. Korra deflects, sending the boulder careening to her left. And the sparring began.

The pair manipulate the barren ground beneath their feet expertly, sending earth flying back and forth across the expanse with all the grace of dancers. Korra's mind is blissfully empty as she allows her reflexes to take over her actions. 

Those instincts are interrupted when a sheet of metal whizzes, just missing her right ear. Kuvira quickly flicks her sleeves back down to cover her wrists, but not before Korra notices the glint of metal strips around her forearms.

“No fair,” she complains. 

Kuvira smirks and winks. “Tricks of the trade.”

Korra's stomach lurches, but she ignores the misplaced feeling and blasts a gust of wind in retaliation. Kuvira ducks out of the way with a bark of laughter, but they continue.

Korra couldn’t help but admire Kuvira’s graceful movements, the way she leapt through the air to avoid one of Korra's lower shots, how she masterfully sidestepped a boulder thrown at her head. Every action is fluid and controlled, like it's second nature, which it is. Kuvira's been practicing for years; Korra feels like a badger mole in a china shop in comparison.

The lack of focus doesn't escape Kuvira's notice, and the metalbender zips a smaller boulder towards her opponent's shoulder. The avatar's evasion attempt comes too late, and Kuvira lands a stinging hit right where she aimed.

"Shit," Korra mutters with a grimace, shaking her hand in an effort to reduce the concentration of the pain radiating down her arm.

“Who’s kicking who’s ass now?”

At Kuvira’s taunt, Korra looks up. The metalbender’s cocky swagger has visibly increased tenfold in a mere minute, which is quite impressive.

Korra grits her teeth in annoyance; the pain has lessened slightly by now. “Let’s go again.”

And so they did. Again. And again. The benders chucked rocks at each other relentlessly, a barrage of earth, stone, and the occasional piece of metal. Repeatedly Korra finds her focus waning, and she has to mentally snap back to her senses multiple times throughout their rounds. In the end, their totals of wins are even, and they collapse on the ground exhausted, covered with sweat. Hairs stick to Korra's forehead and she finds the strength to brush them away before dropping her arm to the ground again. 

“Good job out there.”

Kuvira’s tone is, surprisingly, genuine. Korra snorts.

“Yeah, but the whole time you were so much better than me. Graceful and agile, and the whole time I was like, like,” she pauses to think, “like a badger mole in a china shop!” Her earlier phrase will have to do.

An amused smile upturns the corners of Kuvira’s mouth. “Is that the best analogy you could think of?”

“Yes, actually,” Korra huffs.

This time, Kuvira’s laugh rings out through the empty swath of land, eliciting a smile from the avatar as well. 

"You don't give yourself enough credit. But, I could give you lessons, if you’d like.”

Korra’s smile grows at the promise of spending more time with her friend. 

“That sounds awesome.”


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer i am not a dancer
> 
> for savannah and the saturn gang ily all

**9 months later**

The hot sun beats down relentlessly on Korra's neck, causing an endless stream of sweat to drip torturously down, soaking the back of her tank top. It sticks uncomfortably to her skin, and she wants desperately to flap it away. 

But, under Kuvira's watchful eye, every wobble, every trembling movement, is noted and scrutinized.

They're doing one of their frequent balance tests in an empty courtyard, back in Zaofu. It had been five months since her last time with the metal clan, and the time in between was fraught with meetings, trade agreements, and press conferences, leaving little time for these lessons with Kuvira. But they had managed to squeeze in as many as possible, usually with Kuvira, whose job as a global humanitarian left her schedule open and flexible, traveling to Republic City or wherever Korra was and spending a day or so with the avatar there.

Korra vividly remembered the first of these such meetings, where she had been surprised to learn that their focus would not, in fact, be earthbending.

_ "Dance lessons?" she'd said uncertainly. "What does dancing have to do with earthbending?" _

_ The pair had found a secluded courtyard in the state of Gaoling, where Korra happened to be tied down in special avatar meetings for the remainder of the week. Kuvira had brought, not small meteorites for metalbending practice, nor pebbles for precision earthbending. Instead, she had a set of sweats and a tank top that were identical to the ones she had worn when she was one of Suyin's dance students. _

_ Kuvira sighed, but she had obviously expected the question.  _

_ "People have been so limited in their view of earthbending- it's not just two giant buff dudes throwing rocks at each other and excessively grunting." _

_ Korra had to admit, that had been exactly her original thoughts of earth bending, and they lingered even after she learned to do it herself. In her defense, that seemed to be the impression earthbenders had of themselves, too. Outwardly, it had always seemed the most primitive form of bending, the least elegant.  _

_ "Earthbending, and especially metalbending, is just as much of a delicate art as the other elements," Kuvira had said, once again demonstrating her uncanny mind-reading capabilities. She handed Korra the gym clothes. "I was taught to dance, yes so I could perform, but also because it's one of the best analogies to transfer into the skills of a talented modern earthbender." _

And thus, she began teaching the avatar to dance. 

Korra's start had been shaky at best; she was clumsy and lumbering with her moves, obviously unsure of herself. But under Kuvira’s trained gaze, and surprisingly good teachings, she quickly became accustomed to the art. In fact, despite her early apprehensiveness about both her lack of experience as a dancer and the ample possibilities to make an absolute fool of herself in front of Kuvira-- which was not an insignificant worry-- she quickly blossomed into an above average dancer, at least in her eyes.

“Hold your balance,” her teacher says as she teeters slightly while she thinks. With a huff at her lack of focus, she takes a deep breath and straightens her spine. The two women are standing on one foot, opposite each other. Every thirty seconds or so, Kuvira would remind her to lean forward, and they'd reach down and try to touch their toes without falling over. It is a simple and common exercise to test one’s balance, which, according to Kuvira, is a dancer’s-- and therefore a bender’s-- most important skill. They do this at the start of every lesson, which allows Kuvira to gauge Korra’s improvement, and allows Korra to sweat uncomfortably in the hot sun while the prickle of her teacher’s occasional gaze causes her body to heat up. Or maybe that’s still the sun.

Korra’s not really sure.

The first of these balance tests had been nothing less than excruciating-- a battle of wits, muscles, and joints. Korra remembered it well.

_ After about thirty seconds, Korra’s knee had begun to ache and stiffen up. She was barely able to complete the first toe touch without a severe amount of wobbling, but she managed. She righted herself once more, quite unsteady but still standing. Next, her ankle, which had been decent at supporting her weight originally, began to quiver awkwardly. When this happened, her teacher, without bothering to open an eye, reminded her to tighten her core and straighten her spine. Begrudgingly, Korra had done so. It worked for a while, until her ankle began to randomly give out, which resulted in the avatar flailing her upper body around in a desperate attempt to retain her rapidly slipping control. _

_ At that, Kuvira’s eyes snapped open and she'd declared the test finished. _

_ After her first couple of attempts, Korra had gotten a little smarter. If she started to fall, she could just use airbending and keep herself upright. It was a foolproof plan, really. _

_ The opportunity finally arose, with the two women facing each other outside under the blazing sun as always. They were almost a full minute into the ordeal before the shaking began. Her knee stiffened in an attempt to quell the trembles wracking her leg. But soon it began to ache, and barely twenty seconds later her ankle collapsed. Instead of flailing severely like she usually did, however, she extended the tip of her finger and used a soft, quiet gust of air to prop herself back up. Surely Kuvira’s earthbending sense couldn’t detect a tiny breath of wind. _

_ Or so she thought. _

_ “No bending,” Kuvira had growled sharply. Korra started in surprise, causing her to lose her balance once more. This time, however, she fell all the way, landing ass first on the ground. _

_ She'd winced at the sharp, localized pain and looked up. Kuvira was still standing in perfect balance, eyes closed, spine aligned. As she watched, the metalbender leaned over to touch her toes with one hand, while extending her other leg straight back behind her. Her movements were fluid and controlled, those of a model dancer.  _

_ “Show off,” Korra had muttered _ . 

_ The other woman's eyes remained closed. "If you actually tried, perhaps eventually it wouldn't be so difficult for you, avatar." _

After her many attempts to cheat the system, and the not so gentle encouragement on Kuvira's part, Korra had given in and just resigned herself to suffering through. To her surprise, after just a few more lessons her balance had strengthened remarkably, and she was able to go nearly two minutes without falling. 

"Down."

Korra's body flows, rather than trembles, of its own accord as she leans to touch her fingers to her toes.

"Up."

She feels the smooth action as she transfers her weight back and stands upright.

"And done."

Korra drops her other foot to the ground gratefully, distributing her weight evenly. After months of practice, her knee was rarely even sore when she finished the exercise. 

Kuvira eyes her appraisingly. "You've been practicing."

A light blush spreads across Korra's cheeks, and she runs a hand over the back of her neck awkwardly. "Uh, yeah." Her own competitiveness and will to succeed had demanded it.

A half-smile plays on Kuvira's lips. "Good work."

Her smile reflects onto Korra's face, accompanying the red of her still blushing cheeks.

"Thanks."

The metalbender offers a simple nod, then continues. "Let's do some harder stuff today."

\---

The pair retreat inside, to a dance studio that is empty. 

"This was where I was taught to dance when I first came to Zaofu," Kuvira says. Korra notices her voice catches a bitter note as she thinks back on her childhood. It's a topic the avatar has ached to no more about for the longest time, but she has never gathered the courage to actually ask her friend about it. It doesn't seem like something the metalbender thinks about in any positive way. 

But soon Korra is distracted again, this time with a collection of faster-paced moves that set her head spinning in confusion as she watches Kuvira demonstrate, perfectly as per usual. This is the first time they've progressed past anything but a basic set and Korra is struggling immensely to mirror her mentor's movements. 

When she notices her student's confusion, Kuvira decides to switch gears.

"Here, let me help."

She strides behind her, positioning her hands firmly on Korra's hips to offer support and guidance to her movements.

Suddenly, it's extraordinarily hard to breathe.

"Go ahead." The metalbenders voice is softer near Korra's ear.

Her functional brain shuts down.

Kuvira's hands induce lightning shooting from Korra's head all the way to her toes. Her heart is pounding, a drum in her ears that doesn't quite match the rhythm of the song they're dancing to. Her head is spinning, whether from the mismatched beats or sheer panic, she doesn't know.

Suddenly her mind flashes back to the  _ last _ time she'd gone so crazy like this. Soft hands pressed against the small of her back, her face buried in the crook of someone else's neck, they're pulling away with a smile--

The last time she'd felt like this was the first time she'd  _ really _ hugged Asami.

Shit shit shit.

Her mind is thrown back aggressively to the present.

She needs to move, now. 

What are the steps?

"Pirouette first." Kuvira's voice is there, her savior and destruction simultaneously. How was that even possible?

Right, she's supposed to be pirouetting.

She stumbles into a weak semblance of the move, but Kuvira's strong arms support her and guide her through the rest of the set perfectly. Her mind is as blank as she can keep it. Leaps and turns are executed in perfect precision as student and teacher work in harmony. Korra is struck by the realization that Kuvira is, at this point, acting as a dance partner would. She nearly trips over her own feet as she has the thought, but once again she is saved by muscular arms around her waist.

When she completes the moves, Korra's walking on air. Whether from her success in completing the dance, or the wondrous feeling of Kuvira's hands pressed against her, she doesn't know.

That is until, the significance of her earlier revelation crashes over her like an ocean wave.

The last time she'd felt like this was with Asami.

Oh lord, was she fucked.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, for savannah

**One year later**

The crisp air is refreshing to the touch, easy to walk through. The leaves are turning later this year, just recently reaching their era of peak color; the surrounding flora are strikingly shaded in red and orange. Curiously, not a single one has fallen yet, so out of the corner of one's eye, the trees appear full of fire.

However, the avatar isn’t really here for the scenery.

Though the air is light, her heart is heavy, weighing her down as she walks through a field of neatly-ordered marble, each piece slightly different. For someone as active as herself, this is one of the most demanding things she's ever had to do.

She doesn't glance up from her feet, passing rows upon rows of stone. This is merely an action of muscle memory for her; she knows exactly where she's going.

Turning off the main path, worn into the grass by the passage of thousands of pairs of feet, Korra counts unconsciously under her breath and continues on.

"16… 17… 18…"

She's traversed this area countless times, knows exactly how many paces she has to take. Her stomach is churning, a sensation that's been incessant over the last three months. Wearing her usual blue muscle tank, baggy sweatpants, and pelt around her waist, she thinks herself underdressed for the occasion at hand.

Today marks one year since Asami's death, and all Korra can feel is guilt.

Her feet stop of their own accord, and she looks up, surprised by the stop. Mind and body had been working independently of each other, and only now does her head crash back into the present.

Standing in front of the blindingly white headstone, she’s transported back in time, small and young again, like she was in the Spirit World with Iroh all those years ago. Except, when she crouches down to caress the smooth marble with her fingers gently, Korra hasn’t changed; the transformation is only in her head.

But it feels pretty damn real to her.

She sits cross-legged on the grass, which is soft and damp, as is the norm for this time of year. Her hands rest together in her lap, one squeezing the other anxiously while her eyes watch without seeing. Feeling the pop and crackle of her knuckles is oddly soothing. She flexes them with a quiet sigh, and finally looks up.

Even though she’s done this many times before, she always struggles with where to start.

The inscription on the stone has been added since the last time she was here, and she reads it aloud.

“Asami Sato: beloved daughter and friend,” she chuckles as she remembers countless nights spent alone together, inevitably ending with the tangle of bare limbs between sheets and talks that lasted for hours, as they basked in the warmth of their youthful, endless love. 

But sure, friend worked.

“Engineer, inventor, entrepreneur.” Part of her regretted letting Mako and Bolin write the inscription, but she was in no position to do it herself, and the brothers had done a fine job. Even if she felt they were a little heavy handed with the titles.

The only other thing inscribed was Asami’s favorite poem. She’d first read it to Korra during one of their stolen nights, years ago. After her diagnosis, they would read it together every night, a sort of ritual they desperately hoped could stop the cancer. When Asami became too weak to, Korra would hold the book that contained it. Over countless nights of repetition, it had stuck with the avatar, and she made sure that it was written here.

Korra closed her eyes. There was no need to read it, she knew the whole thing by heart.

“ _ ‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers - _

_ That perches in the soul - _

_ And sings the tune without the words - _

_ And never stops - at all - _

_ And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - _

_ And sore must be the storm - _

_ That could abash the little Bird _

_ That kept so many warm - _

_ I’ve heard it in the chillest land - _

_ And on the strangest Sea - _

_ Yet - never - in Extremity, _

_ It asked a crumb - of me. _ ”

Her breath catches, her laughter becomes tears, and she’s crying uncontrollably.

Her arms wrap around her knees habitually, squeezing her body into a ball, as the tears gush from her eyes. Uncaring if the occasional passerby stops and stares, if her hips snap under the strain, if she dehydrates from the torrent of tears, she rocks back and forth on her heels, sobbing uncontrollably. Her guilt is welling up inside her, bursting through the walls she’d built in a futile attempt to contain it, consuming her entire being.

“I’m so sorry, Asami,” she chokes out. 

How could she do this to Asami, to her memory? If she’d been so irrevocably in love with her, how could she allow herself to ever feel similarly about any other person again?

It had been three months since she realized what she felt for Kuvira. Three months of torturous confusion and guilt. And the more she thought about it, the more she battled with herself. 

Her relationship with Asami was, in a way, the model of fairy-tale romance: the love shared by best friends who quietly grew into something more. It was sweet, perfect, and rarely obtainable; it was special in every sort of way. Not to say that it was never carnal, or that they never fought, because it was, and they did. The difference was that, underneath all of that, there was a consistent baseline of pure and innocent love.

But this thing with Kuvira was something else entirely. The metalbender had nursed her back to health after the most trying part of her life, had seen her put the pieces of her life back together as best as she could in such a short amount of time, while never pressuring her to do so. Kuvira was the rock Korra counted on when she was sinking, the vessel that carried her through the storm. There was an unshakeable bond there, fundamentally different from anything Korra had with Asami.

During their limited past interactions, she’d always unconsciously admired Kuvira from afar-- it was impossible not to-- but the connection forged through their shared losses and experiences added depth to those feelings of basic attraction. These feelings she held for her friend were directly tied to the other woman’s part in rescuing her from the mental abyss she had been trapped in.

The vast differences between her feelings for Asami and those for Kuvira left her dizzied and bewildered when she considered them. On one hand, she felt like she was lying to herself because she dared think she could even  _ consider  _ a future with anyone else. But on the other, Korra knew that Asami, the most caring and selfless person she had ever met, would’ve wanted her to be happy, even if it couldn’t be with her.

Plus, she knew Kuvira had been hurting from the loss of Baatar, though she’d never admit it, and having the avatar as a friend was as good for her as it was for Korra herself. This information made it notably harder for her to even  _ think  _ about trying to suppress her feelings; the knowledge of an infinitesimal possibility that maybe,  _ just _ maybe, Kuvira might feel the same way.

With these thoughts plaguing her mind, she feels sick and disgusted. Hot tears are still trickling from swollen, red eyes, and she pulls a hand back from around her knees to wipe them away with a sniffle. A wave of exhaustion settles over her, weighing on her shoulders like a thick blanket. She’s tired of this battle, tired of the emotions, but in that weird way minds have of contradicting themselves, she knows that the feelings, the  _ passion _ , are what keeps her afloat on a day to day basis.

“Asami, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Korra says wearily. “I want to love you forever, I  _ will _ love you forever.”

She looks out, affixing her gaze on a satomobile parked some three hundred meters away, where she knew Kuvira sat, waiting patiently to drive her home.

  
  


“But this is something else. Something  _ new, _ and different. I’m not ready to let it go just yet.”

There is a note of determination in her voice as she finds some comfort in expressing the thoughts out loud. All she wants now is some assurance from Asami.

A gentle breeze blows through, shaking the trees and brushing lightly against Korra’s skin. The cool air is soothing against her cheeks, which are raw from crying. The timing feels too close to be coincidental. The avatar is a far more spiritual person than she was as a brash, seventeen-year-old, but still uncertainty lingers in the back of her mind.

Is she so desperate that she’ll accept answers from the wind?

“Yes,” Korra says aloud with a breathy laugh, “I am.”

She stands, straightening her knees and flexing to relieve the ache of her hips before turning her gaze back to the headstone.

“Thank you, Asami.”

And with that, she turns back the way she’d come. But instead, her head is held high as she acknowledges the beauty of the world around her. She isn’t exuberantly happy, more relieved. It feels like the earlier weight has been lifted off her shoulders, leaving her free to walk easily. 

Actually, she reflects, it was more like she’d let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the poem in this chapter is “‘Hope’ is the the thing with feathers” by Emily Dickinson


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who this one's dedicated to i bet you can't

**18 months later**

The winter passed quickly, and now spring is almost upon Republic City. The air has an icy feeling to it, like the very atmosphere is packed with the soggy snow that clings to the ground in piles, remnants of the yearly deep freeze that linger stubbornly, unaware that the world around them has moved on for the time being. 

The bracing cold and poor weather of the after-winter has finally subsided, and the watery sky is clear except for the passing of an occasional feathery cloud. The trees, stripped of their leaves, stand bare against the pale blue in every direction. All in all, the young spring currently poses a rather bleak scene.

But good company is more than enough to distract Korra from the baldness of the landscape.

It’s a different sort of air from the fall, but just as pleasant to walk through, which is what the pair are currently doing. Memorial Park in the early spring is nearly deserted, and it’s nice to have a break from the bureaucratic tendencies of the avatar’s day-to-day business. Kuvira’s humanitarian efforts, too, had become more and more labor-intensive, especially after the eruption of a supposedly dormant volcano near the port city of Ni Cheng two months ago had required her to set up camp with her team in the region while they monitored the situation. It had been a busy couple of months for the two of them. And there was nothing Korra had missed more than Kuvira’s presence.

Spending nearly two full months without getting to see one another had done nothing to dull the intense feelings the avatar held for her closest friend. If she’s being honest with herself, a moment rarely passed where she didn’t fantasize about the possibility of those feelings being reciprocated; it's a concept she both idealizes and fears. It’s as equally feasible as it is unattainable, as realistic as it is impossible. 

Even while she thinks about it, her head starts to spin, and she blinks furiously.

“I think I’m ready to sit down,” she admits. Kuvira shoots her a sideways glance, mildly concerned.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just have a headache.” It’s not a complete lie; she can feel the pressure building from the back of her neck up to the top of her skull. 

“Ok, we can stop here.” She gestures towards a wooden picnic table off to their right. Korra sinks gratefully onto one side; Kuvira sits on the other.

When her friend turns her attention back out to the middle distance, as she was so prone to doing, Korra’s eyes lock onto her friend’s face. She inspects the clean lines of her jaw, her sharp, angular eyebrows, the beauty mark high on her right cheek, her thin nose, upturned slightly at the end, and, most importantly, the brilliant shade of her eyes. Green eyes were Korra’s favorite thing, and Kuvira’s were some of the most beautiful she’d ever seen. It’s so easy for her to get lost in them, to forget anything else and focus only on the gentle emerald hues embedded within those gorgeous irises.

She’s so caught up in her examination that she doesn’t realize it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“What?” Kuvira’s voice is tinged with amusement, and a little bewilderment, at the avatar’s continued staring.

“I,” Korra starts, thinking fast to come up with an excuse that didn’t involve admitting she’d just been caught checking her out, “I just feel like I know so little about you.”

Kuvira looks down at her hands, and the avatar breathes a sigh of relief after the close call. 

“What do you mean? You’re the closest friend I have.” 

It’s hard to ignore the way her heart lurches in disappointment at those words. “Right,” she says uncertainly. “But I know almost nothing about your childhood.” 

“There’s not much to tell.”

There’s unease set in every line of Kuvira’s body. The avatar can see it, can sense the tension in the air. She doesn’t want to push any farther than she already has. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she says softly.

Kuvira sighs. 

“No, it’s just--” she stops, struggling to find the words she wants to say. Finally she looks back at her friend.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to say anything until I’m done.”

It seems like a unique request, but a simple one to honor, so Korra nods. “Ok.”

The metalbender clenches and unclenches her fists, flexing her hands to relax herself in preparation to speak. Korra’s eyes are drawn to the movement, and suddenly her head is full of more fantasies, ones that she’d rather not think about in public. Heat spreads rapidly, covering her face in the span of seconds. She disguises her blushing cheeks with a cough, turning her head away until it subsides. 

After a deep breath, Kuvira begins.

“When I was eight, my parents sent me away to live with Su because of my bending, and what a nuisance it was for them. She was ‘taking me off their hands’, as my father said.” She chuckles almost reminiscently, a beautiful sound in stark contrast with the bleak statement she’d just made.

“It went well at first, I suppose. Su taught me to dance, to metalbend. I had other kids around. I can’t say I ever really considered them siblings, though. And they felt the same way, for sure. How did Opal put it that one time?” She asks aloud to herself, looking pensively off into the distance. “Oh, right. Like I was a stray dog nobody ever wanted, not even my real parents.”

Korra sucks in a breath sharply; it whistles through her teeth. But, true to her word, she doesn’t say anything.

“What’s worse is that Su didn’t do anything about it either. I remember one time, I wanted to play with Opal’s doll house, since I didn’t have my own. She wouldn’t let me, so I, uh,” she snorts out a laugh. “I crushed it.”

Any trace of a mirth she’d expressed vanished as she continued.

“She told me I needed to learn to control my  _ violent _ impulses, or else I’d hurt someone like I hurt my mom.”

Korra’s sympathy for Kuvira quickly transforms into fury at Suyin. She has to bite her lip to retain an outburst, and a metallic taste fills her mouth. She’d drawn blood from the mere force of her teeth. 

But still, the story went on.

“She never accepted me as her daughter, not really. At times, I really did feel like the unwanted stray dog of the house. I stayed only because it looked good for Su to keep me. I took the family portraits; I wasn’t in them. I never called myself a Beifong because I never felt like one.”

Anger. All she feels is anger. How could someone so revered and loved by their community turn around and defy everything she preached? Suyin’s entire set of values was based on community over self, was it not? The hypocrisy stuns her.

“That’s why I joined the guard as soon as I could. I didn’t want to feel like a stranger in a house that was supposed to be my own anymore. All I wanted was to  _ prove  _ myself to her,” Kuvira says, voice cracking under the weight of her past desperation, her burning desire to be cherished by a family that loved her. It makes Korra’s heart hurt.

Kuvira takes a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure. With a start, Korra notices a single tear tracing its way around the beauty mark under her eye and down her cheek, landing gently on the picnic table. Instinctively, she reaches out and places her hand lightly on top of one of her friend’s. 

A jolt of electricity instantly rockets up her arm, so powerful that she’s surprised Kuvira doesn’t jump at the sensation. Just as she moves to retract the hand, berating herself for being so rash, the metalbender looks up, meeting her eyes. Korra feels completely exposed under that gaze. Surprisingly, though, she doesn’t recoil, welcoming the sensation of every regret, worry, and concern laid bare.  _ You can stop _ , her thoughts say. 

"I'm ok." 

Korra's doubtful, but still doesn't voice her thoughts, waiting patiently for Kuvira to speak again.

"I guess I should be grateful. She gave me a house, a roof over my head, and a nice one at that. But it never really felt like a home.”

Finally, Korra can't stand it anymore, can't stand watching such a strong, powerful woman brought down by thoughts of her neglectful adoptive mother.

“You deserved better.”

Kuvira's mouth splits into a half smile, directed at the wood beneath her hands. “No one deserves what I got,” she says sadly. “I’ve realized that by now.”

Suddenly Korra's overwhelmed with guilt for the part she played in this. Recounting the past is one of the most painful things to do, and she knows that better than anyone. While in the end talking it out usually helped her, she couldn't help but worry that this conversation had gone too far, and done more harm than good.

"I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry," she bursts out anxiously. 

Kuvira looks up, finally meeting her eyes again. Korra realizes that their hands are still touching.

"Don't apologize."

"But--"

"I didn’t stop you, did I? I needed this." The metalbender's interjection is gentle and reassuring, and the avatar releases a breath she didn't know she was holding. It doesn't, however, do much to ease the cat owls currently flapping around in her stomach.

"Glad I could help, then."

The afternoon slips away as they sit at the picnic table, making idle talk and catching up on each other’s lives from the past months. Korra’s mind, however hard she tries to keep it in check, keeps drifting. She can’t fathom growing up any other way than with loving, engaged parents and a caring household. But the way Kuvira described her past, heavy with longing for all of the things Korra had taken for granted, shook her to her very core. She vowed that no matter what, she would make sure the metalbender never felt alone or unwanted like that again. 

Whether as a friend, or more, she would be there for Kuvira, like she’d been for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is me contributing to the fuck suyin agenda


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still for savannah <3

**Two years later**

Korra’s heart is pounding in her ears. Her palms are clammy, and fingers twitch ever so slightly. Yellow light bathes the world in every direction, and there’s a ringing in her ears that she’s come to associate with this area of the city. Close proximity to the Spirit Portal is inadvisable in large doses, which is part of the reason Korra avoids it at all costs.

At least, that’s what she tells herself.

In truth, her last trip to the spirit world was with Asami, another vacation that went considerably better than their first escapade. They traversed beautiful meadows of spirit flowers, which had regrown since the battle with Tokuga's Triple Threats, scaled rocky peaks, and swam in clear blue lakes. 

Korra hasn't returned since.

She’s always been able to circumvent her responsibilities to the spirits, usually by sending a more-than-willing airbender to do it in her place. She was never ready to go back, especially not alone.

But now, the time has come.

“Hey.”

Kuvira’s hand is a comforting weight on Korra’s shoulder, keeping her grounded while holding her head above water. Her stomach knots and churns nervously, for once  _ not _ because of the metalbender's presence.

"You ready?" 

Two years after her death and she'd never been back. Reminders and memories linger around every corner. Would she ever really be ready?

"No," she says truthfully. "But I have to do this."

Kuvira's smile is small, sad yet reassuring. "I'll be right here beside you."

Korra's heart jumps into her chest as the eye contact lingers between them. Suddenly she's very aware of the hand on her shoulder, the tingling sensation emanating from it. She clears her throat, which is suddenly as dry as the Si Wong.

"Thanks, Vira."

Kuvira's face softens for the smallest fraction of a second before she scrunches her nose in distaste. It's the most adorable thing Korra has ever seen.

"I hate that nickname."

Korra knows she's lying, but plays along anyway. 

"Not when I use it," she says, blowing a kiss.

As soon as she realizes what she's done, she flushes red. But Kuvira, thankfully, is too busy rolling her eyes to notice.

"Sure, avatar."

Korra breathes a sigh of relief, which her friend must have attributed to nerves, giving the shoulder a light squeeze.

"Let's get going."

The hand drops, but there's little time for Korra to register how much she misses its presence before they're walking, climbing over the guardrail that marked the edge of a Republic City street and the beginning of the region of spirit vines forming the base of the portal. In the years since its creation, the plants have only grown more wild, knotting and twisting amongst themselves. It’s easy to miss where one juts out above the others, and Korra frequently does, tripping over seemingly empty space. Kuvira, infallible as ever, is there to catch her when she does. Each time, the avatar blushes, righting herself hurriedly and trying to pay extra attention to where she puts her feet. Inevitably, though, she nearly falls again, and the metalbender is always within her grasp.

They reach the edge of the portal, and the ringing in Korra’s ears is louder than ever. She inhales deeply, smelling the distinctive scent of spirit flowers even from this world. Years have passed and she’s never forgotten; it’s an aroma distinctly ingrained in her memories of the place. 

She closes her eyes and steps into another world.

The high pitch in her ear reaches its peak before it cuts off sharply. The very atmosphere around her is charged with energy that she can feel against her skin; it’s like being zapped constantly by a weak electric current. The wildlife of the spirit world has an entirely different sound to it, but it’s a pleasant change. She’s surprised by how familiar this all still feels to her. For everything she remembers, ages could have been minutes.

Her eyes flutter open, allowing her to take in the absolutely breathtaking scenery.

They’re in the field of purple flowers that she had remembered so vividly, their scent magnified a thousandfold now that she’s actually here. All around them are turquoise colored, craggy mountains. The meadow is surrounded by leafless spirit trees, whose limbs reach up towards a deep blue sky. The yellow tint of the portal filters over everything, making the colors even sharper than they would appear normally. 

But by far the most amazing thing is the look on Kuvira’s face.

The unguarded, purely wonderstruck expression is nothing like the reserved one she usually wears. Even around Korra, it seems, she was always holding back, offering little more than an eyebrow quirked in amusement or an eye rolled in annoyance. Now, her face is displaying pure and unbridled emotion. She looks almost  _ youthful _ , and Korra can't get enough.

“It’s beautiful,” Kuvira mutters, still unaware that she's the subject of intense examination. 

"It is." The avatar's not talking about the meadow.

"I didn't really pay attention the last time I was here. It's even better than I'd imagined."

Korra tears her eyes away to look out at the scenery once more. There's a tree identical to the one she and Asami had carved their initials, a trail just like one they'd hiked along. But, though she misses those days, her heart doesn't ache as much as it used to when she thinks about them. As the realization strikes her she's a little shocked by it, then she remembers that lately, the majority of her time was spent thinking of something else.  _ Someone _ else.

She can feel Kuvira giving her a side-eye, but she ignores her, looking up ahead determinedly until she hears her speak.

“Time to practice."

“Practice?” Korra asks uncertainly.

The metalbender gestures her to come forward, to where the ground is a bit more level. "We haven't danced in ages."

Indeed, it had been a long time since their last lesson, with the two being more inclined to talk instead of dance. Frankly, Korra had been avoiding it as long as she could. She knew that she would just end up making things awkward.

Or worse.

But right now, she can't say no. And with her newfound contentment as far as her memories are concerned, she finds she doesn't really want to either.

They start with Kuvira listing a simple collection of moves as a warm up, and they run through them flawlessly. Korra's surprised at how much she remembers as she lets muscle memory do the work it needs to. She only stumbles once, over the exposed root of a spirit tree. Kuvira doesn't even flinch. Instead, she loops an arm around Korra's waist, pulling her back upright before taking her hand and prompting her into a graceful spin.

"Watch your feet." 

Her face is mere inches away from Korra's own, a fact that the avatar is painfully aware of. Their breaths, coming out in light pants from exertion, mingle together. She needs to move now, or else she's going to do something she'll most likely regret.

_ But maybe you won't. _

Korra pushes the voice to the back of her head, releasing Kuvira's hand and putting a respectable distance between the two of them.

"What's the next set?"

They continue dancing for hours, the avatar's mind blissfully empty of any responsibilities, worries, and especially feelings; she thinks of nothing but the next set of moves, where her feet will go next, or the positioning of her upper body. It's a kind of peace that she's coveted-- the ability to shut down and just  _ do, _ without having to put much thought into it. 

Finally, they flop onto the ground, aching from the strain of supporting their bodies through complex positions and motions. Korra groans as her back relaxes, tense muscles easing carefully.

"Sore already, avatar?"

Korra looks over to see Kuvira’s expression, challenging her with a smug grin that sends her heart jumping. She loves and hates that stupid smirk, what it can do to her in mere seconds.

“Yes, actually,” she says defensively, wincing as she rolls her shoulders back against the ground. 

The metalbender chuckles.

“It’s been a while,” she says admittedly.

“You did everything perfectly.”

“I’ve also been dancing since I was about seven.”

Korra rolls her eyes. “Still.”

“Korra, what will it take for you to believe that you’re a damn good dancer?”

There isn’t a combination of words in the world that describes the way that simple statement makes her feel. For one, she never calls her by her name, it’s only ever “avatar”. The amount of confidence the metalbender has in Korra never ceases to amaze her.

“Thanks, Vira.”

Kuvira smiles at her-- a real, genuine smile that rivals the one she’d worn earlier. The youthfulness of that radiant grin sets her insides ablaze with a protective instinct that she can’t really explain, outside of making sure she  _ never  _ hurts again. 

“You know, you might be right after all,” her friend says, turning her gaze up towards the cerulean sky. Korra follows suit, crossing her hands behind her head and letting the smell of flowers overtake her senses.

“About what?”

“I do like it when you call me that.”


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finally got around to finishing this, so go me
> 
> as always, for savannah :)

Korra and Kuvira are together in the former's second story Republic City apartment on the east side, enjoying a casual dinner and conversation. Kuvira's talking animatedly about her new business, a dance studio downtown. After spending many years as a philanthropist, the work had become too strenuous, and she decided to retire. Korra wasn’t complaining; her move to the city made seeing each other twice as likely. The avatar still has her typical international affairs to deal with, but for now she’s satisfied.

The metalbender is an amazing teacher. Her students are mostly young children, new and unsure in the art, but they appear to be fast learners. Still, Kuvira can’t refrain from lamenting their shortcomings. 

"I swear, some of these kids don't even have enough balance to stand on their own two feet! How am I supposed to teach them to dance?" 

Korra's captivated by her passion, her drive. She can tell Kuvira already loves her job and those kids, no matter how harshly she criticizes them. She hasn't seen her this happy or excited about something in a long time, and it warms her heart that she is witness to something so incredibly rare and beautiful.

She's so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't even realize Kuvira's watching her expectantly, and also a little curiously. Hastily, she clears her throat.

"Does this mean I'm your best student?"

Kuvira's expression morphs into a smirk, sending Korra's heart racing just like it always does. "I suppose it does."

“Granted, your only competition is seven year olds, but still”

She loves and hates how nervous she is around the metalbender, how the butterflies in her stomach intensify under the scrutiny of that cocky gaze, how her mind is full of scenarios and fantasies that can never come to fruition.

Is there any way it could possibly work out?  She varies between absolutely yes and no way in hell, depending on the day. But right now, lost in those green eyes, she can't help but long for her feelings to be requited.

“You gonna get that?”

“Huh- Oh.” She’s so consumed by her thoughts that she doesn’t even hear the Chief’s voice coming from her police radio.

“Korra! Are you there?”

She breaks eye contact and grabs the radio, angrily suppressing the disappointed feeling she feels.

“What’s up, Lin?”

“Some Triple Threats and Agni Kais are meeting up downtown. It’s gonna get ugly any second now and I need you out there.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighs. No matter how hard she pushed back against their efforts, the gangs in Republic City never seemed to go away fully.

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

She moves to set the radio down again and head for the door, but Lin’s cautious voice stops her.

“My metalbenders and I are spread too thin. It’s just gonna be you out there, avatar.”

Korra shrugs. Things like this, while frustrating, are fairly routine, and she can handle them on her own.

“I’m on it.”

The radio shuts off and is haphazardly tossed on the couch. Grabbing the smooth wooden staff leaning against the doorframe, Korra is about to leave when she remembers who else is in the room.

Kuvira is standing, her gloves in hand. At the sight, a pang of worry shoots through Korra’s gut. She knows what the metalbender is capable of, but she can’t help her impulse to protect her. She doesn’t want to lose her.

_ She doesn’t want to lose her. _

The magnitude of the thought isn’t lost on her, but now isn’t the time for thoughts, for feelings. 

“Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

Kuvira arches her brow in disbelief. “You don’t want me to come with you?”

"No," Korra says firmly. She's not putting Kuvira in danger for something she can handle on her own.

She snorts. “I may not be the  _ avatar _ , but I can handle myself too, you know.”

The sarcasm is evident in Kuvira’s tone, but Korra ignores it in favor of opening the door. “I do this all the time. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

Before she has to hear the other woman’s argument, she leaves, sprinting down the hall and skipping the stairs with a gust of air to cushion her landing. Exiting out the door and into the bustling street, she spots the nearest spirit vine. She cuts brusquely through the crowd of people on the sidewalk, dodging satomobiles from both directions as she reaches the road. After more than a few close calls she kneels beside the vine, places her hand on it, and directs her focus on accessing the spirit energy trapped inside. Her eyes squeeze shut and her breathing slows. Putting herself into a meditative state, she’s found, makes it easier to do this. 

A yellow light blinds her as she taps into the mysterious force. If she had to describe this feeling, it’s like entering the Spirit World through a portal, but stopping before you fully exit the material one; she’s stuck in limbo between the two. Her spirit flows through the vine, maneuvering easily through the twist and turns, before there’s another flash.

She can see as clearly as if she were really there; a dozen or so opposing gang members facing off in a deserted corner of downtown Republic City, benders and non benders alike. Each of them are armed, be it with an element or a weapon, and all of them are ready for a fight.

Pulling her hand back sharply, she watches the vision fade. The bustling street around her is strikingly different from the dark alley she’d just seen. She opens the wings of her glider and takes off, turning to the south. Any nerves that arise she quickly discards. This happens all the time, and there are only twelve of them. If negotiations went bad, she could handle it.

She’s still soaring high above the city when she spots the location of the fight. No blows have been exchanged yet, but even from hundreds of feet in the air she can tell that tensions are high.

_ I need to get in there. _

In that moment, she does what she knows best: jump headlong into the situation without too much planning.

“Stop!” she calls out angrily. It’s expected and cliche, she knows, but effective. The gang members’ attention turns to her as she drops out of the sky, creating a small whirling tornado in between opposing sides to force them apart. Some stagger backwards in shock, while most are knocked off their feet from the blast. Korra touches the ground, hands at her sides, ready to push them back again if necessary.

“What’s going on here?” she asks demandingly.

They glance around uneasily. No one wants to take the lead. Korra, studying their faces, realizes they’re all quite young. This close, in fact, all of them look like teenagers. Her anger subsides.

“Something’s not right,” she mutters, her face contorted in confusion.

A sixth sense tingles on the back of Korra’s neck, one she’s learned time and time again not to ignore, and she turns abruptly.

Just in time to see a jet of water, freezing before her eyes, heading straight for her chest. 

Muscle memory takes over and her hand jumps out seemingly of its own accord to meet the hardened spike, which melts back to its liquid form. She slings it towards its origin, a pair of benders charging towards her from across the alley. Before the water’s even met its target she sends two rapid blasts of fire behind it, causing one of the gang members (she assumes) to brace their feet quickly and deliver a sharp uppercut, tearing up a wall of earth to block the flames.

Her mind detaches, and her body begins acting independently of it. 

_ What’s going on here? _

As two more benders are cut down by twin blasts of wind from her closed fists, she notices that the groups she’d seen facing off earlier had merged together, and she was battling both of them. Suddenly, the realization dawned on her.

_ Someone fed Beifong faulty information. This was a trap. _

With that knowledge, she moves even more quickly, shooting fire to her right, throwing a boulder up ahead, slinging some water to her left. Her motions are fluid, graceful, as she focuses only on knocking as many of her opponents out of the way. But the sheer numbers begin to overwhelm her, and she is forced to give ground, until her back is up against the alley wall, the cool, solid stone a firm reminder that there’s nowhere left to go.

Still, she fires elements methodically in all directions, disabling benders and non-benders alike. Yet, they keep coming, an endless surge of enemies. At this point, her arms are aching with the strain, and between her exertion and the heat of the flames her forehead is dripping in sweat. 

The edges of her vision starts to blur, turning an opaque white which begins to spread slowly. She doesn’t want to go into the avatar state right now, wary of the destruction she might cause, but it might be the only way for her to make it out of here.

That is, until a strip of metal whistles through the air in front of her eyes, careening towards a firebender in the corner of her peripheral vision. The gang members surrounding her, startled, look towards its origin, and Korra follows suit.

At the entrance to the alley stands Kuvira wearing light armor, her tall and powerful form outlined by the setting sun. It’s the most inopportune time for the avatar’s mouth to run dry at the sight of the other woman, but it happens anyway.

Korra tears her eyes away from the sight, cursing internally. She hadn’t forgotten how hard it was to focus when the metal bender was around. 

“Back off,” Kuvira growls commandingly. Korra has no time to register how those words make her feel before fighting breaks out again. But even with just one more person on her side, the pair began to  make short work of the gang members. About ten minutes pass, and most of them are either bound securely with metal strips or frozen in place from the neck by ice and earth prisons.

“Thanks,” Korra says, slightly winded. 

Kuvira smirks. “All in a day’s work, avatar. Just lucky that I didn’t listen to you.” 

Korra smiles begrudgingly. “I suppose so.”

“You suppose so? Face it, you’d be lost without me.”

The longing feeling deep in the pit Korra’s stomach stirs at the challenging and cocky note of Kuvira’s voice. No matter how hard she fights it, no matter how many times she tells herself that there will never be anything more than friendship between them, she can’t convince herself fully. She can’t give up on her feelings because then she’d have nothing left.

“I would be.”

If Kuvira notices the hidden meaning, the feelings, behind her words, she doesn’t show it. 

“Good to see you finally under-- _ ugh! _ ” her sentence is cut off with a startled gasp.

“Kuvira?” Korra says in confusion. She looks down in horror. “Kuvira!”

One of the gang members, apparently a metalbender that had escaped his bonds, had struck her repeatedly in the back, leaving her face down and paralyzed on the ground, groaning in pain. Consumed by rage, Korra looks up, making eye contact with the man. She can feel herself losing control again, her eyes beginning to glow. She sprints towards him, shooting quick blasts fire out of her fists. She’s got him cornered in an alley, and he looks up in terror and defiance at the avatar, who lights a fire in each hand. He’ll pay for what he’s done, Korra is going to make sure of that--

“Korra?” 

Her heart shatters, right then, into a million pieces as she hears the weakness, the pain in Kuvira’s voice. She turns back, extinguishing the flames from her palms. The blinding light behind her eyes fades and her vision clears. Korra can see the huddled form on the ground, propped up on her elbows, struggling to support her own weight. As she watches, the metalbender collapses again. Korra’s eyes widen at the sight. The man escapes while she’s not paying attention, but there’s no time to go after him right now.

Kuvira needs her.

Rushing to her side, Korra looks around the streets frantically for a source of water. When she sees none on the surface, she closes her eyes, feeling below ground. There’s a rumbling noise as she raises her arms, calling up a torrent from the plumbing and pipes below ground. The force of her bending creates a flood below ground and leaves a gaping hole in the street, but she doesn’t care. All that matters is saving Kuvira, the woman she loves.

She doesn’t have time to push away the thought, nor does she want to. After all, it’s the truth.

Korra uses the water she’s taken and centers her attention onto Kuvira’s back. Countless pieces of shrapnel stick out of the skin, puncturing the light armor she is wearing. They’re pulled away by the water, and the surface wounds heal. But Korra can feel her internal injuries, and they aren’t healing with her bending. Desperately, she keeps moving the glowing liquid back and forth along Kuvira’s spine. 

Nothing is healing.

“It’s no,” Kuvira coughs weakly, “no use.” A trickle of blood leaks from the corner of her mouth and travels down the side of her chin. Korra adjusts her hands to wipe it away.

“I’m not gonna stop trying,” she says stubbornly, continuing the flow of the water. She can feel her vision clouding at the edges, and she blinks furiously to clear it. There’s no time for tears right now.

“Korra.”

She has to keep trying, she can’t stop, she won’t lose anyone else--

“Korra!”

It’s said with the most commanding tone Kuvira can muster.

“Please,” she says, clenching her eyes shut as a fresh wave of pain shoots through her.

Korra looks down, hot tears filling threatening to spill over again, before she reluctantly casts her water to the side. She picks Kuvira up by the shoulders gently, cradling her in her arms carefully to avoid her injuries.

“This feels familiar,” the older woman quips, opening her eyes slowly. She looks so fragile that Korra’s heart breaks even more than she thought possible. But she still smiles.

“Did you really just crack a joke right now?”

Kuvira shudders. “Maybe,” she whispers through gritted teeth.

“I’m gonna get you out of here. You’re gonna be alright.” It feels like a lie as it’s coming off her tongue. 

Kuvira just looks at her, her gaze filled with doubt, before she takes a deep breath.

“Ah, hell.” Her raspy voice is even lower than normal and laced with pain. “I’m not going to die without telling you how I feel.” 

Korra’s breath stills in her lungs. 

“How you,” her mind is racing. “What?”

A chuckle escapes Kuvira’s throat, but it quickly turns into a hacking cough. There’s more blood around her mouth now, and the hand supporting the dying woman’s head acts of its own volition, wiping it away again. 

“Is it so hard to believe that I could be in love with you too?”

Korra is floored. 

“I, you, how--” she clears her throat. “Yes?”

Kuvira’s smirking again, but this time it’s different. Something’s different.

“You think too much, avatar.”

It takes nearly all of her energy, but she pushes herself upward. Korra supports her, eyelids fluttering shut. All the while her heart is throwing itself against its ribcage in anticipation of the thing she’s wanted, dreamed of, for so long now.

Their mouths meet after a million years of waiting, and the world stops turning.

Kuvira’s lips are softer than she expected, and she relishes the feel of plush flesh against her own, melting slightly as one of the metalbender’s hands reaches up shakily to cup her cheek. They move slowly, unhurriedly, as if they have all the time in the world. 

If it weren’t for the lingering taste of blood, it would be easy to believe that.

The kiss lasts forever, yet ends too soon. Kuvira pulls away, keeping her face near. Korra can still feel her hot breath against her lips when she speaks.

“I’ve waited so long to do that.”

Korra doesn’t reply,  _ can’t  _ reply. Her eyes are still half closed in bliss, and she knows that if she opens them reality will set in.

Kuvira raises her hand from Korra’s cheek and tucks a piece of hair behind the avatar’s ear.

“But it would seem that I’ve waited too long.”

Korra’s eyes flicker open, and this time she can’t stop the tears. They race down her cheeks, leaving shiny tracks on her skin. “Kuvira, I-” her sentence is interrupted by a convulsive gasp, and she takes a deep breath before she can finish.

“I love you, too.”

Kuvira smiles, and even now the sight of it takes Korra’s breath away.

“I know.”

The tears only fall harder now, and Kuvira wipes them away with her thumb.

“You can’t save us all, avatar,” she says, but her eyes are full of admiration and respect for the woman she’s come to love.

A burning lump blocks Korra’s throat, and she swallows hard to clear it so she can speak. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

There’s too much fogginess in her eyes; she can barely see. “For being here when I needed you most.”

“Remember what I told you:  _ don’t stop living _ .” For the first time, Kuvira’s voice is the one that catches. “You deserve to be happy, Korra.”

She can’t stop crying; a never ending river of tears come from her eyes.

“How?” Her voice is weak, quiet. 

“I don’t know. But you have to try.” The simple effort of speaking exhausts the once invincible woman, and she slumps slightly.

Blinking only intensifies the blurriness. She wants to rub her eyes, but that would mean letting Kuvira go.

And there’s no way in hell she’s doing that now.

“Don’t go.”

The words fall from her lips before she can stop them. It’s a childish sentiment, a wish really. Some part of her foolishly hopes that it will work.

Kuvira smiles sadly in her arms. A single tear falls from the corner of her eye. 

“I love you, Korra.”

“No, no, no, Kuvira! Stay, please!” Korra sobs desperately. “Stay with me!” 

She cries harder, louder, gulping breaths of air when she can and shedding a river of tears. But once again, Kuvira is right.

Not even love can stop death.

Korra watches the fire go out of Kuvira’s eyes, watches them become glassy, staring emptily ahead. Those beautiful green irises she loves so much are dull and unseeing.

It’s that, above all else, that makes it the most real.

Kuvira, her best friend, her savior, the woman she loves, is gone.

In the heart of republic city, Korra has never felt more alone.

She doesn’t want to let go anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls dont hurt me


End file.
